Straight to Hell
by eddie.is.the.sex
Summary: Jane's story. Enough said.
1. Mood

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Twilight, and yes, I wish I did

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Twilight, and yes, I wish I did.

Mood

I heaved a sigh, and untied my dusty apron. Throughout the whole morning's cleaning session, my eyes had stayed fixated on Alec's door. It was closed and locked, like usual. I just couldn't wait to see him again! Mother had agreed that I could visit him if I was good for a while.

The last time I had caught a glimpse of him was over a week ago, when Mother was shoving his mid-day meal through the door. I had ghosted behind her, and sneaked a glance under her arm.

But the last time I had spoken to him, my own twin brother, was over two months ago.

With my chores all completed, I had desperately hoped that maybe, just maybe, Mother would let me see him. Just when I was reaching towards Alec's door, I heard her annoying twitter behind me.

"Janey, my precious!"

I closed my eyes, trying to control the surge of frustration that lashed through me. I turned to her.

_What had a done wrong now?_

I answered my own question.

Been born. _What a tragedy._

"Darling, where are you going now?"

She was wiping the scrubbed wooden table and wearing a lacey hairnet on her head. It looked completely foolish.

I answered her, while staring directly at her ugly hairnet.

"I've done all my chores Mother. Can't I … _please_, go now?"

A line formed between her brows as she frowned.

"You're not going to visit Alex again, are you?"

I took a deep breath and corrected her for the millionth time, being careful to keep my tone polite.

"It's Alec, Mother, not Alex. And I was hoping that I could. You said that I could, remember? It's been ages since we've spoken, and I'd promised him-"

"No."

At her blunt dismissal, the whole atmosphere changed. Went cold. But I felt _heat_.

She stared at me, slowly wiped her hands on her apron, and dropped the dirty cloth on the table.

I fell silent. The suffocating silence seemed to echo around me.

The blood pumped through me as I felt another of her dreaded mood swings coming on, and I began to shake.

"You're not going anywhere. Do you understand?"

I froze, adrenaline pulsing through my bloodstream. My hands began to tremble.

I just couldn't find the words, but in my mind, I was screaming.

_Yes, I understand, and I'm sorry. Mother, I understand! _

But I didn't understand. Not really. I didn't understand what kind of mother would lock her son in a room for almost all his life; and not even know his name.

What kind of mother?!

Alec listened to me. Mother used to let me stay with him quite frequently, but now she was shortening the chains. But when I could go in, he always relaxed, and could almost pass for the average, happy child. But even when I was with him, and Mother had left, there were differences.

Alec would never look someone in the eye. He would avoid anyone's gaze, and look at his or her shirt collar, or a spot behind their shoulder. I knew he didn't mean to be rude.

He was just more comfortable that way.

And Alec might smile, but he would never laugh.

Whenever I would whisper to him about Mother, he really seemed to understand. We had a connection. A bond.

"Why aren't you saying anything? I ask you a question, you answer girl!

_Answer me!_"

Mother's eyes bulged, a vein pushed out of her forehead.

Maybe she would have a heart attack. I thought hopefully.

She took yet another step closer to me, and before I knew it, she was in my face, glaring at me. I backed away. I remembered that I still hadn't replied her question.

"I – I understand. And I'm sorry." I managed to stammer out.

Mother immediately relaxed. Her fists went limp, and her breath left her with a whoosh. My chest unclenched, and with relief, I realized that her mood swing had passed, almost before it had even begun. She took a step back.

_And stay away._

It was only when I straightened up, that I realized that she had been towering over me. We stood, looking anywhere but at each other.

I stared off to the side, at the small oil painting that was hung above the crude fireplace.

It was so stupid, really. An emerging artist, who had thought the world of himself, had swanned into town. For some strange reason that was incomprehensible to me, he'd taken a liking to Mother, and decided to paint a little painting for her. She had been completely star-struck.

Ash smeared everything else within a square meter of the fireplace, but not the painting. Mother had taken great pains to carefully wipe away any traces of ash almost every time the clock struck.

"Janey, I just want you to be safe." She finally broke the over-powering silence. "You know that Alec is… a little disturbed."

I looked away from the painting. My face was like a mask.

He's not crazy! He never was! Just because Alec's a little different from some other children, doesn't mean that he's insane.

Just say you're sorry.

Instead I replied tightly, "I know." And looked away.

"He's very … antisocial. He might not want to be near anyone. Even you."

Locking him up in that cell was nothing less than cruel. He didn't deserve that. To be left in the silence, in the dark, for so many years. You're a monster."

But, I didn't say anything. I didn't want her… to get angry again. I was afraid of what would happen, after.

She gave up, obviously not caring about what I was thinking.

She sniffed, picked up her grubby cloth again, and lazily waved me off.

"Jane, go upstairs to your room."

I stared at her, waiting.

"It's not tidy enough."

I continued to wait.

_Had she changed her mind?_

"What are you just standing there for? And don't think I've changed my mind; you're still not going to see _Alec_. Now get out of my sight!"

I turned numbly around, and headed to my room.

I closed the door quietly behind me.

- - - - -

I walked back to my room and just stood in the doorway for five whole seconds, my eyes scanning the room for the minute thing that had been out of place.

It's not tidy enough. I gritted my teeth.

Finally, I spotted my only other pair of shoes lined up crookedly on top of my bookshelf.

I snatched them up, and arranged them in a straight line.

I could almost hear my heart thumping hard in my chest. All I saw was red.

But I was used to it now. Most of my life had been red.

I sat on my bed, trying to think of what to do. I _had _to see Alec.

Without him, I had no one.

I couldn't bear the thought. He was like my other half. And with one half missing, I could only ever be … _half_ there. I wouldn't be whole. Not even close.

I stared at the wooden floor, tapping my feet in agitation.

Before Mother confined him to his room, Alec had been completely normal. He was such a joy. _He laughed._

Suddenly I was filled with rage. How dare Mother ban me from seeing him? I paced the tiny cell-like room, waiting, waiting.

I knew what was going to happen next. I knew the cycle of Mother's little tantrums so well. She was just so predictable.

After an outburst, she would come to my room (where she had sent me) and beg for me to forgive her. And not only the _one_ outburst in particular, but _all_ of them!

The nerve! I might forgive one of them, but all? No one could be that lenient. I felt like God, and Mother was a desperate sinner begging to forgive her … sins.

"_Please, _please_ forgive me. I'm sorry." _

If I really were God, I wouldn't forgive her.

"_I won't do it again. I promise."_

I wouldn't even hesitate.

"Janey. I love you."

I would simply send her straight to hell.


	2. Striking Back

Resentment

Striking Back

Sure enough, barely an hour had passed, before I heard a timid knock on the door.

"Janey? Are you there?"

I stared at the door, allowing my anger to fester.

_Of course I was there, you idiot. There was only one door._

I was so sick of being 'polite' Janey, 'obedient' Janey. I was sick of _Janey_ altogether.

_Didn't she have any will at all? _

_Janey_ always seemed to let others walk straight over her. She even managed to say "Thank you!" as their shoes prodded into her body. Weak.

I was going to tell her what I thought of her. Now was as good a time as any.

"Come in!" I called sweetly.

After a second of hesitation, the door creaked open.

Her tiny eyes sought to find mine. I refused to look at her. I had to be strong, for myself.

_For my brother. _

I imagined myself as a chunk of ice; cold, hard, unforgiving.

_Don't melt!_

"Janey. What are you doing?" Mother probed timorously, as she shuffled over to my bed, where I was lying, sprawled. I knew what she was thinking, what she was resisting the urge to say.

"_Janey darling! It's not lady-like to lie like that. You know that."_

She bit her tongue and didn't say anything about it.

Instead, her eyes were drawn to Dolly. I hadn't even realized I was clutching her. I must've picked her up in my agitation, as I paced.

She cleared her throat, and said, "Ah. Your doll. I remember you saved up for weeks and weeks, to-"

"I know. You've told me." I interrupted her _rudely_, sending a thrill of rebellion course through me. I liked it.

She made it sound like _she_ had given me spare change, so I could save up. But that wasn't how I managed to collect the money. Whenever I got the chance to go outside, I would comb the dirty cobblestone road to see whether someone had dropped a penny or two…

_Just quit with the small talk and get to the point._

She seemed to read my expression on my face, and hurriedly blurted out, "Aren't you a little bit too old to still be playing with dolls?" she attempted to tease me.

My expression was deadpan.

"I'm not playing with her, Mo-_ther_," I made the disgusting word into two syllables. "And who made up that stupid saying anyway? Is it a _rule_? Do I have to _obey_ it? And if it happened to actually _be_ a rule…" I watched with grim pleasure as I saw her face change colour, and continued.

"I wouldn't care anyway."

Her eyes bulged, her vein popped, and I knew it was coming soon.

Then finally she exploded.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that! I'm your mother!"

"You sure don't act like it!" I couldn't help retorting.

"You evil child! I come up here to see how you're doing-"

"Didn't you come to _apologize_? For treating me so wrongly! Never once, have you said the truth! You're always out there _just_ for yourself, no one else! And your _mood-swings_ – one minute you're all 'Janey _darling_, Janey my _precious_'" I screamed at her, quivering with rage. "Then the next, the horrible monster inside you rears its ugly head!"

I had never felt such a degree of satisfaction. All those years of feeling unwanted, unappreciated, and now I was throwing it back in her sneering face.

_It felt good._

Mother's voice whip-lashed in my face, but I held my ground. I wasn't going down this time. She was.

"You spoilt child! Even though you're just a useless _girl_, I put all these clothes on your back, I feed you, I house you, and you repay me with _this?!_ The only boy I have, Alec, is retarded! What a disappointment! Oh pity me!

And my _mood_ swings - all of which have been caused by you_, about_ you! Ever stopped to think that maybe _you_ made me the way I am?" She pointed her twig of a finger in my face.

That just about did it. I cracked. I felt like snapping her finger in half.

"You're. Blaming. Me? What have I _ever_ done wrong? I've done so much housework, never treated you with disrespect… I was perfect.

But now, after the way you've treated me; _beating_ me because of trivial little wrongs on my part – leaving wilted flowers in the vase, or forgetting to sweep over the ledges – I have so much anger inside me. _So_ much. And did I ever deserve it?"

I stared cold and hard into my mother's face, meaning to cause as much pain as possible. The next words I would say would be extremely harsh.

_But that's good. I wanted to hurt her. _

"And what about father? He killed himself a long time ago. Get over it. Do you want to know why he died? You tell me that he killed himself because he couldn't handle twins. You can keep on lying to yourself, but I'll tell you the truth. Listen carefully! This is why he died. Because he was _sick_ and _tired_ of living with _you_." I spat at her.

She reeled back, shock plastered over her sweaty face, rocked back on her heels. Then she snapped forwards and hit me with the back of her hand. Her bony knuckles smacked me so hard, I thought my jaw just might be broken. I didn't feel any pain, but I felt the force.

I staggered back into the rickety table behind me, speechless, my cheek tingling and numb. Her black eyes glinted with unmasked fury. I stared back at my mother with hating eyes.

She lunged at me, pulling her wrist back, and smashed the back of her hand into my face again. I saw the light spray of blood glitter in the sunlight, before it splattered against the wall. As I cringed, trapped against the table and the wall, I felt blow after blow of her experienced fists, thud into my small body, my side, my arms.

_I won't let you do this to me again_.

I threw her away from me, and slammed open my bedroom door. I was so angry! My heart was beating so fast, and the heat… it consumed me.

- - - - -

Mother clutched at my sleeve, and I thought she might pull me back. But instead she pushed me away from her, through the heavy, wooden front door.

What I saw outside was a bleak, never ending land of death, the crystals glinting in the watery winter sunlight.

"If you freeze to death, it'll be your own fault! You brought this on yourself! And don't even think about coming back in here! Now get out!" she forced the tight words through her gritted teeth.

Outside, in the frigid cold, I shoved myself through the heavy snow. Had I looked back, I would've seen mother standing in the doorway, recoiling from the icy wind. She was shaking her fist at me.

_Don't look at me. Don't touch me._

I was still so furious, at everyone, at everything. I threw myself through the snow. I was still so hot that I hardly even felt the temperature.

What I did feel though, was my cheek. It was heavily bruised and swelling rapidly. When I was safely out of her sight, behind the outer edge of trees in the forest, I sat down on a ragged tree-stump, and cried.

My sobs came faster and faster, wracking my body with the convulsions. They were uncontrollable. I thought maybe I was having hysterics. Maybe I was going insane.

Eventually they slowed, and after an age, they stopped. It began to hurt to cry, not just because of my bruises – I was used to that. But because of the cold. It bit at my hands, my nose, my toes. They felt itchy; I wanted to scratch them.

But when I put my fingers on my free hand, I couldn't even feel them scrabbling at my skin. They were numb. I was numb. I had nothing left.

But then a familiar voice called my name, and I felt a rush of relief.

"Janey? Is that you?" Quite a distance away, I saw Alec's head was floating in the tiny window near the backdoor. He had opened the window, despite the freezing breeze whistling through, and his fingers were stretched through it.

_I did have someone left._

"Alec!" I cried happily. I was just so glad to see him. But as I got closer, and saw his frightened eyes, my cries of joy turned to tears of sadness. His face face lacked sunlight, and his hands looked thinner than ever. And his face. It was blank; his pupils diluted.

_All because of Mother._

I kicked up sprays of snow, as I rushed towards him.

"You must be freezing." I heard him murmur.

But when I kept my face lowered to the bright snow, he looked closely at my face. Then he whispered furiously at me in a low voice, "Did she hit you again? I heard the yelling… she kick you out again, didn't she?"

I nodded slowly, and began to cry again. Eventually, when I calmed down, he asked softly, "What did you say to her?"

"A lot. Of mean things. But they were all true!"

He gave me one of his wicked grins; the ones that I loved seeing on his face. It made him more alive.

"I'm proud of you, Janey. You stood up to her! You gave her some of her own medicine!" He suddenly looked a bit twisted. "Did you like it? _Hurting her?"_

I was surprised when I immediately answered, "Yes. I loved it."

And I didn't regret making her angry at all. I would do it again, _anytime_.

After a pause, he asked, "What do you want to do?"

I bit my lip. "Well, I'm not going back." I said with assurance.

- - - - -

I ended up going back anyway.

I stayed outside for about an hour, waiting for her to calm down again. She had kicked me out before. And although the reasons then were much more mild, I knew she would let me in again.

As per usual, my cycle was right. She begged my forgiveness, and I agreed.

But it wasn't with the old "Janey" kind of forgiveness. The kind where you actually _meant_ it.

And so every time I saw her after that, I made it my duty to cause her pain.


	3. Pure Evil

Hate

Pure Evil

One year later, I lay sprawled on my bed, gripping the now well-worn Dolly in my hand.

Mother was so predictable. I could just tell what she was doing right now. By the recognizable screech of the oven tray, sliding out, she was baking. And by the amount of flour dusted over every surface… it was probably a pie. And since there was a sale at the fruit market on apples…

Okay, so I cheated. It was really very obvious. I _did _have a sense of smell after all. An idiot could've guessed 'apple pie'. But really. Who actually cares? I don't, _that's_ for sure.

As I fiddled with old Dolly, I thought.

I'd changed a lot in the past year. Once I'd finally caught on that Mother didn't – and never would – love me, I began to think that she might _hate_ me.

They were loosely connected after all.

And once I thought that, I thought maybe I should return the favour.

_And hate her right back._

It would be the _polite_ thing to do.

I wound my finger around a strand of Dolly's wool hair, and viciously plucked it out.

I remembered how the townsfolk stared when I went out for groceries, the day after the beating.

Standing just inside the door, I watched with pleasure as Mother squirmed and wheedled for me to wear my straw hat. I said that I liked the sunlight. It was still winter after all, and I had to take advantage of as much warmth as possible.

Well, that's obviously what my excuse was.

Then she begged me to wear her shawl, her new, green one, and wear it draped over my face.

_Like I wanted to be seen looking like a fool, looking like Mother._

But I agreed to wear it. So I slung it over my head and face, and sarcastically admired my new style in the smeary mirror, pouting and batting my eyelashes.

_And so the prince fell for the frog._

I laughed.

My large, pale blue eyes definitely came from my father's side. Although Mother had never told me about how my father looked, I imagined him to look a little like Alec. And since we were twins…

I saw my father gaze back at me from the mirror, silent.

My hair was ordinary, but I was proud of my hair. It was long and light-coloured, flicking around the sides whenever I moved.

I flounced to the door, bidding Mother an extravagant farewell, and slammed the door shut, hard, on purpose.

I had walked down the squat steps that disappeared under the white snow, and quickly arrived at the little fruit market, that was always open, and always busy.

I grinned Alec's twisted smile and removed Mother's shawl. I held the material by one corner, and let it trail in the wet mud.

Oops! Hope Mother won't mind…

I strode through the throng of people, flicking my hair back and forth, showing my teeth, daring anyone to comment. I raised my eyebrows, as shoppers openly gaped at my bruised face. The more people stopped in their tracks and elbowed each other, the more irritated I got.

I can see you poke each other you know! And don't think I can't hear you whisper to one another.

Until finally I couldn't take it anymore, and I spun around. People around me, hurriedly backed away, shocked at my abrupt movement.

I looked them all in the eye, and began talking.

"It was my mother. Her name's Martha Sibella Guest, lives over that little hill, you know?" I pointed directly at my house, or _shack_, I should say.

"She got… shirty… with me when I told her that my father killed himself because he hated my mother. Yes, it _is_ complicated, isn't it?"

I smiled tightly at the gathering crowd. They stood transfixed, some with pity on their faces, some with disgust.

"Oh and, have I mentioned that I have a twin brother? Well, none of _you_ would've seen him – Mother still got him shut up in a little room back at the shack. He hasn't been outside that cell in – what, it must've been five years! Shocking isn't it? And do any of you know why? Because Mother thinks that he's-" and here I mock whispered, and used my fingers to imitate quotation marks, "-_retarded_."

I spoke in my normal voice again. "Which he's obviously not."

And after a moment of consideration, I added, "but he might be now."

My own personal audience was – well, _shocked_ would be an understatement. A baby, in her mother's arms, began to wail. I glared at it, and her mother covered her babies' face.

I took a deep breath, controlling my emotions.

"Is that all you wanted to know? Got any questions? Any queries? None? So are any of you going to help me shut _her _down?"

Uncomfortable silence. Everyone avoided my piercing gaze. My heart began to beat faster and faster. I nodded slowly.

"Oh, I get it. You think I'm lying. I see."

I gave a bark of cold laughter, staring them down. No one looked at me.

I spun around, and walked away.

But I strode off with a grin on my face. I had caused them intense pain. It would've been like sticking a knife into each and every one of their stomachs, and twisting it.

Guilt.

The strongest source of pain.

I opened my eyes again, and returned to the present. I glowered at the wall, and ripped another woolen hair from Dolly's head.

The new Janey wasn't a 'Janey' at all. She was a _Jane_.

Some time after the townspeople betrayed me I spoke to Alec. Mother had finally allowed me to see him in his room, but the number of visits never increased.

I replayed the conversation in my head.

"Alec, do you hate it when people call you Alex?"

"No one calls me anything. Cell, remember? There's only you and mother."

Pause.

"Right. I forgot for a second there."

"I never forget."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"It's okay Janey. It's… it doesn't matter."

Yet another pause. There were a lot of silences when we talked. But they were never uncomfortable. And Alec didn't seem to mind them.

"Alec, can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Can you please stop calling me Janey? I hate it. It reminds me of Mother…"

Pause.

"Okay then. I can see why you don't want to … well yes. What should I call you then?"

"Call me Jane. I like the feel of it. Kind of strong… powerful."

"Okay. It's matches you."

I smiled. It did match me. And once I became Jane, I changed. I admit it; I became colder, more direct. I lost all sense of tact. I didn't pussyfoot around a sensitive topic. And I became a good actor around Mother.

And I also began to love _inflicting_ pain… on _others_. It made me feel good.

Throughout the last year, I had spent a lot of my time sneaking in extra food through Alec's window. I made sure to pick up any discarded newspapers, and give them to him.

As well as this, I would try and give him some items to help pass the time. A dirty dog's ball, or a wooden puzzle stolen from a certain whiny baby's crib. Alec hadn't had any proper education, and I had only received a limited amount, but we both learnt from things around us.

But since nothing passed by Alec except grey walls and snow, he found it harder than me, to learn and discover.

I decided to shovel out a narrow path near his window. Mother saw this, and at first attempted to stop me, for fear of someone finding out about Alec, but when I pleaded with her, she grudgingly agreed.

After the last beating, I slowly got on my Mother's good side. She even began to look at me with no sneer on her face! It was shocking! I would never have guessed that she would warm up to me!

Life works in strange ways. Accept it.

So, she allowed me to make a path in front of the forest, but only if it wasn't _too_ close to Alec's window, and only if I did it myself.

It took me a month and a half to finish it, but I did it in the end.

My plan worked like magic.

Many villagers didn't hesitate to take the shorter, quicker route behind our row of little houses, rather than to dodge the potholes and horses on the Main Road.

Alec began to enjoy an ever-changing film of diverse and interestingly different people. He could watch them from his window, and it was almost like being outside.

As he began to feel less trapped, and less consumed with boredom, I saw a little more colour in his cheeks. He had a spark in his eye, and being the naturally intelligent boy that he was, he learnt quickly.

But I wanted more for him. Even though this arrangement was much better than how it was like for him previously, it was still terribly restricted.

I yanked another hair from Dolly's scalp.

After seeing the vein pop in Mother's face, I realized what made people _hurt_.

It wasn't physical pain, but mental pain.

Throwing a punch at someone only goes skin deep, and like with my bruises, they heal. And they don't even hurt that much.

But targeting the _mind_ goes much deeper. It penetrates the most secret parts of someone's life, and cuts it down. It's really very effective.

Throughout the last year, I had been working on subtle ways to make Mother hurt. And if you are close to that person, and hurt them, the hurt hits doubly as hard.

So whenever I thought Mother needed to be taught a lesson, I would run away.

She might just be at the market, or even just having a short bath, and I would sneak out, without a word, without any warning.

And I would come back many hours later, to the enjoyable scene of Mother pulling her hair out in worry. She would've been in _mental pain_ for hours!

I smiled.

And when I would finally waltz back inside, she would just look at me, wounded, as I gazed defiantly back. She never even yelled at me anymore.

How do you like it now?

And so, for the last two months, Alec and I have been conversing about our escape.


	4. Planning

Planning

"Mother, can I _please_ go and visit Alec?" I asked in a sugar-sweet tone.

I saw standing with my hands behind my back, opening my eyes as wide as I could – I knew that always softened her up. Mother hesitated, flicking her gaze from my face to Alec's closed door, undecided. Though she looked at me, she would always avoid my eyes. I constantly stared her down, and her face would twitch with something like pain.

"Please?" I begged, pouting a little. I hated doing that. I was much too old for acting like a baby. But it worked, and mother's troubled expression heightened into something that definitely was pain, before melting into something like… love.

Her eyes looked a little moist – but they always were nowadays. She reached out a hand to stroke my face, but I deftly stepped out of her reach, my face immediately drawn - like shutters had been pulled down over my eyes. As she bent over, the chunky, metal key swung out from the folds of her grimy dress, and I followed its graceful movement with my eyes. This was only the second time I had ever seen the key. I fought the furious urge to leap up and snatch it from her neck. She must actually trust me, I thought with barely concealed loathing.

Seeing the expression on my face, mother sighed, her breath making the hairs on the back of my neck rise up. She made no attempt to hide the key from my sight.

My mother spoke quietly, "You know, Janey, you've really grown into some of your potential lately." Her words surprised me, but I resolutely gazed stonily back at her – my whole innocent façade long gone. Her watery eyes fluttered so much, that I thought she was going to start crying. She sighed again, a deep rattling breath, and continued. "You have _such_ a winning smile, and your _face_… as pretty as a picture."

I resisted the urge to snort. My eyes were dull – just blue and entirely ordinary. My face was pale and, in my opinion, much too round to be beautiful. And I hadn't smiled in a _very_ long time. But if I wanted to see Alec, I would have to play nice. Of course, mother not allowing me to see him wouldn't stop me sneaking out at night to talk to him through the barred window. I could stand the cold. But it was so much easier during the day.

I made an effort to look flattered. "Mother, what a thing to say!" I giggled. It sounded off; hollowly echoing off the dusty walls.

_Urgh, giggling._ I shuddered, disgusted with myself.

I saw mother's lips moving but I had stopped listening. My gaze was fixed on Alec's door the whole time. After a while, I cut off her twittering monologue with a swift, "Mother, I want to see Alec now."

_And I don't want to look at your ugly face a second longer._

She stopped warbling, and her hands hung limply at her sides, helpless. I always acted like the perfect child. But I knew that _she_ knew that inside… I really hated her. But what could she do?

I marveled at how much mother had changed in the past year. Her broken, dry hair had streaks of grey in it, and her shoulders were more hunched. The skin on her neck was sagging and withered. She was only forty years old, but she looked as old as the mad crone living in boxes across the street. But apart from the physical, she had also changed mentally. She had always been weak, always begging for forgiveness. But now… it was like her whole character had evaporated. She was so… pitiable.

I despised her. But I would never pity her.

"Well, I guess you can go… you've been a good girl, Janey," she said quietly. I didn't bother even correcting her with the standard _'It's Jane, not Janey'._ I was already running to Alec's door. I pushed it open, almost tripping with my haste.

"Alec!" I cried happily, throwing myself into the room. I never ceased to greet my twin with as much enthusiasm as always, and he never ceased to shock me with his endless amount of patience. If I were he, I would be ready and firing all pistons to go and escape from this hellhole, but he was as calm as ever.

"Jane, you're here." He smiled back at me, getting up from his bed to hug me. His room was as bare as your average prison cell, with only a narrow bed, a rusty tap dribbling in the corner, and the few things I had collected for him over the years.

Various sized balls, several chewed cotton toys, random things that I picked up off the ground, and my own Dolly, were just some of the items. They were arranged lovingly, a neat row along the edges of the cell.

A warning twanged in my mind, and I whipped around and slammed the door shut in mother's anxious face.

"It's soundproof." I heard Alec say. I nodded – Alec would know. Then I settled myself onto Alec's bed. It wasn't very good for settling; it was cold and as hard as the back of mother's hand.

"So, Alec, when do you want to do this?" I asked quietly, turning to look at him.

Alec looked… the same as ever. His big, blue eyes blinked out of a face that matched mine. White hands from lack of sun, bones that stuck out from his body, as though some mad creature were coming out of him… same as ever. I felt another surge of hate towards mother.

"You don't have to whisper. Mother won't hear us," he answered with his quiet, measured voice.

"I'm not whispering!" I whispered. Pause. And then Alec laughed – a shaky, unfamiliar sound. After my initial shock, I quickly laughed along with him, just because he laughed so rarely. His eyes sparkled.

"You didn't answer my question," I teased after he had caught his breath.

"I don't know," he answered simply.

"You don't know?" I repeated doubtful. _Didn't he want to leave?_

"Yes! I mean, no, I don't know!" he responded. "I really don't mind." He assured me earnestly.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. We can go any time you want." I didn't know what to say. I fiddled with my apron while the silence echoed dully around us.

"But I can't decide everything…" I muttered. Alec frowned; a little crease between his troubled eyes.

"Yes, you can," he disagreed. "And what is there to plan, anyway? We just have to sneak out in the middle of the night…"

I continued where he had trailed off, my voice slightly louder than his reasonable one, "… and board a train that we have no money for, to a place that we have no idea about, on a day that we haven't decided yet!"

I stared at the wall, frustrated. "Alec, tell me what's going to happen when we get there, _if_ we don't die on the way!"

He didn't even hesitate. "We live in the freezing slums because we are only poor, homeless, runaway children, and we die a miserable, bitter death for a miserable, bitter life." When I raised my eyebrows at him, unimpressed, he added, "Sound good to you, sis?" I twisted away from him to look at the wall, exasperated. But I couldn't be mad at my adorable brother for long. No matter how much he infuriated me, I would always love him a thousand fold more.

"You say that you decide everything? Well, how about… I take charge from now on?" he asked. I didn't say anything, only challenging him with my eyebrows.

"Okay," he said, happily. "First thing's first." His tone suddenly took on a business-like manner.

"The little problem of money… well, while I was in here-" he waved a hand around the little square of a room "-I got an idea for that."

"Oh, really? What's that?" I asked, truly eager now for an idea… any idea.

"We'll beg!" he said triumphantly. I stared at him, despair evident on my face.

He sighed when he saw my expression. "We won't really be begging; it'll be more like _asking_," he clarified.

_Not begging, asking._ I replayed the words in my head, trying to make sense of it. _Beg, ask… barsk?_

"What, barsking?" I said out loud.

"_Busking!_ That's catchy, Jane."

I glowed. "Thank you." I sniffed, feigning snobbiness. I was starting to get excited.

"So, this, busking, you say… how will we do it?" I asked. Alec smiled.

"We'll _earn_ our money, by _performing_ to them," he said dramatically. When I continued to stare at him dumbly, he elaborated, his hands waving madly in the air with excitement. "I have my flute, and you can dance, and we can perform to the people walking along the path you built outside this very window! Once they hear and see what we can do, they'll gladly _throw _their money at our feet! It's the perfect plan, Jane!"

I continued to look a little doubtful, and I fired more questions at him to answer. Which he did so without hesitation.

"There aren't enough people."

"Yes there are. I see one hundred, maybe even one hundred and fifty people cross my window every day. We have a good audience on our hands."

"I haven't danced in years."

"You said it yourself: Dancing isn't something you forget easily."

"What about your flute?"

"Don't be daft. I play it all the time whenever I'm bored. Which is pretty often. I've gotten pretty good at it."

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "What about mother? She'll never let us do this."

That stopped Alec in his tracks. He thought for a while, and then answered, "Mother goes out a lot during the day as well. She isn't a hermit." He suddenly sank into his usual quiet. I yearned to just hug him.

"But she comes in and out frequently…" I trailed off, trying to break his nostalgia.

"We'll just have to stop and start frequently as well, then." Alec declared with determined finality.

This could be the worst mistake both of us would make, and I was desperate to find a safer solution to our train-fare (or lack there of) problem.

"I have chores to do." I cried out, hoping that would do the trick. "I won't have enough time to sneak in here all the time. And you know mother keeps the door locked all the time."

"You'll figure something out." Alec said, with such assurance that I knew I could never ever let him down.

When I reluctantly left Alec's room hours later, my eyes were fixed on the grey key to his room, hypnotically swinging back and forth over mother's ches

* * *

"Baaaaaby cabbage! _Get_ your baby cabbage here! Fresh and veeery cheap! _Caaaaaaabbage!" _I cringed at the booming voice of the large shopkeeper, bellowing so close to my left ear that I felt his spittle flick onto my cheek. I slowly turned to face him, and fixed him with a malevolent glare. The shopkeeper fell silent, eyes narrowing, deliberately securing his great hams of arms on his wobbling waist. He sneered at me, and then a glob of spit flew out of his big, red mouth. It met the earth with a sickening splatter near my feet.

My lips twisted into a mocking grin, and I stepped tidily over the glistening blob, flouncing away down the dirt market place aisle.

The shopkeeper was one of the few who didn't avoid me like the plague. Even as I walked, a harassed-looking mother snatched her toddler out of my path, avoiding my gaze just like everyone else. A young man with a swagger in his walk and a tin of tobacco in his hand, stopped and gawked at me. Even the group of balding, half-drunk gamblers who were cheering on a cockfight inched slightly out of my way before resuming their raucous laughter.

As I walked, I discovered a knot of young men blocking my way. They were lounging against the rickety wooden stalls, whistling whenever a pretty girl passed by. Not hesitating to stop walking, I hissed at them, and there were many mumbles as I pushed through.

When I had asked Alec why so many people avoided me, Alec had looked at me in surprise, and when he finally opened his mouth, he did it with hesitation. I didn't like his answer.

"_Don't you do it on purpose?"_

No, I really didn't mean to be so… blunt… if that was even the right word. I guess I just had a presence. A frightening one. And when I really thought about it, I realized that I didn't mind so much, after all. I only heard snatches of the fat shopkeeper's voice as his voice faded away.

"Cabbage… get… fresh… baby… cheap…"

Walking in the opposite direction to me, one child caught my eye. Her watery eyes were almost the same colour as my mothers – muddy brown. She looked to be around my age, with perfectly positioned blue ribbons in her. Another girl, who looked too young to be her mother, and too old to be her friend, was holding her hand. I paid no attention to her, only staring at the younger girl's brown eyes with open hate as I passed.

Her eyes widened, her pretty little mouth fell open, and I saw the fright evident in her eyes. My lips twisted again in Alec's smile, my eyes still boring into hers. The girl stumbled, clutching at her sister's sleeve, nervously skirting the edges of the stalls to avoid getting near me. As she lurched away, I saw her occasionally shoot frightened glances at me over her shoulder. I turned away in scorn.

She _must_ be around the same age as I was, but somehow I seemed so much older. She would play with idle toys while I labored as a chimney-sweep. _I_ was living in the endless night, whereas _her_ life was as sweet as treacle and bright as the breaking dawn. Innocent. Naïve.

No words could describe my jealousy of her.

I looked down at the grimy ground, biting my lip hard, and my hands clenched into hard, little fists.

I only looked up again when the noisy market sounds had all but evaporated, and the smell of fresh pine and biting ice were sharp on my tongue. Mother's house was slumped in the background, and there was not a single person in sight.

Suddenly I felt an icy coldness seep through my shoe. I groaned; I hadn't yet gotten around to mending the hole in the sole of my shoes. I bent down to check; sure enough, the ice was already melting into my worn-out stockings. When I straightened up again, someone was sitting on a log near the forest edge. I squinted – I was sure there had been no one there before.

The noticed his hands first. They were long and spidery and were sheathed in a pair of odd gloves with the tips of the fingers cut out. Golden hair poked out from underneath a floppy cap that was worn jauntily on his head. He wasn't wearing nearly enough clothing for this weather. He was as tall and thin as a flagpole.

By the youth's feet was an open wooden case, and propped carefully against it was a violin. Suddenly, his face turned away from the ground, and I was lost in his eyes, so green they didn't look real. A little frown line formed between his eyes as he gazed at me. "What're you inspectin' my mate so close-like for?"

I jumped. I realized that the violin-boy wasn't alone. Standing right in front of me was another youth. This one was a little shorter, a little bulkier, and altogether a little more average. He had muddy brown hair and was smiling widely. His voice, despite his dicey language, was rich and pleasant. I glanced at the violin-boy; he had stood up and was walking slowly towards us. I ripped my gaze away. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare." I stammered, off guard. And then I caught myself.

_Jane, not Janey._

"What's it to you?" I challenged, flicking my gaze between the two boys. "And why're you two hanging around here anyway? On my land?"

The shorter boy's eyes widened in surprise, and he raised his hands as if to say, _Whoa, I'm backing away…_. "Geez, miss, apologizin' if I'm on _your_ land. But I'm here for a reason. Your lil' bro asked us-" he waved between himself and his friend "-to wait for ya here. Or hide, actually, as the case may need," he added as an afterthought.

"My brother?" I asked suspiciously. He nodded lazily, up and down. Silence. The violin-boy still hadn't uttered a sound. He was beginning to make me a little uncomfortable.

"So… who are you?" I demanded, distracting myself.

He hooted. "Whoa, aint you straight to the point, huh?" he said with a good-natured chuckle. I stared back at him stonily. He grinned all the wider. I was starting to get just a tad annoyed at this boy's constant cheerfulness. He would probably still be laughing even if a carriage rode over his dog, I thought grimly.

"Just call me Boo," he announced, winking. He stuck out a tanned hand, so much different than that of violin-boy's. I ignored it.

"And what's your name?" I asked a little softer, to violin-boy. He had to lean down for a long way until his face was level with mine.

"They call me Jem," he whispered in a light, fluty voice.


End file.
